| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 :: 12 |
| teeroo |
THIS WORLD IN WHICH WE LIVE IN
SHOULD BE HID AWAY IN WRAPS
The Thistle Meadow…how long had it been since he had traveled the wilds? The light grey stallion moved with ease, his chest pains feeling a bit better. Even though he had yet to see the healer, Onni, the desert had taken care of most of his pain. It was strange to have his body change in such a sort amount of time, but he knew it was only temporary. He needed to see her soon, but he was due for some exercise first. He felt surrounded in the Throat, and claustrophobic. He wished for a second that he had wings, but he tossed the idea aside. What was so great about having wings? He started to ponder why he had turned to the dark side, the side of racism. What was the point of it exactly? He felt so empowered by it, and it was a feeling that was easy to let consume you. You could get drunk off of it, and be out of your mind in seconds. It was a drug, and it kept you addicted until it ruined you forever. He felt bad for the unicorns of the Basin, the Plague; Psyche, Mauja. Mauja. He realized that he was racist too. How could he have been blind to that? Of course he was racist. The Plague had been started while he was King of the Edge, and he had been apart of it, had probably been the leader of it. It was so easy for him to see how subtle the Plague was supposed to be, and how sneaky and subtle the Frostheart was. Was everyone as blind as he was? Something made his heart sink at this notion, and he wasn’t a good kind of sinking. His own notions started to bother him. What was he doing? Was he really in the right place? Had he really changed from being a hard-core racist to an equal? He knew it couldn’t happen that quickly, and he began to wonder if he had really been one at all. He knew he wanted to fit in with the other unicorns of the Ex-Edge, but he truly believed in their cause. Pegasi and equines were normal, plain and dull. They should be below them…but what was this feeling inside him telling him that they were all wrong? The thoughts swirled in his head, making him dizzy. There was so much to consider, and it was hard for him to tell what was right and what was wrong. The voices of the DarkEmpress and other unicorns pulsed, spilling their lies about unicorn supremacy. There was no one yet to tell him it was wrong, that everyone was an equal. But faces past him instead. Kri, Lace, Rapha. Rapha. It was wrong. He shouldn’t be serving those bastards, especially Psyche’s daughter, the bitch that she is, just like her mother. He felt their power was undeserved suddenly, and he wanted to stop it. But how? Did he even really want to, or was he still just mad at Psyche? Psyche…her name floated in front him. He asked himself again what had happened, and why. It was so easy to say why, then so hard to decipher all of the clues. Everything seemed to be made of lies, and everything seemed to just fall apart before him. Is that how his life would be, a trail full of lies and a path behind him made of his own blood? He was forever destined to bleed, to bleed out for those that didn’t deserve to make him bleed. He reached the Thistle Meadow, and looked around. A black figure shone in the sunlight, his wings folded at his side. He didn’t know of this figure, but he smelled of the Basin. Maybe he could shed some light on things, and it would be good for him to let some things out as well. What was the point of being in a herd land if you couldn’t trust who was in it? He made his way slowly along a flower lit path, stepping past crushed flowers, showing where the large pegasus landed.
“Hello there. I am Valentine, new member of the Throat. Who are you?”
"blah blah blah."
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I am no longer going into the cbox due to recent events. You can PM on this (Valentine's) account, go on my skype (teeroo777), or PM me on DA (teeroo). Thank you.
Credits to picture on page, since they won't show up since they are in black: http://twiwolf.deviantart.com/art/Free-Love-362011598
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Every Fourteenth of February[Valentine]
